FOR WE CANNOT BE STOPPED.
Twisting, turning, breaking apart and coming together again. It was familiar and not all at once; he'd felt a little like this between bodies, moving through the space between them in seconds. This, this was pulsating and electrical, fast-moving but taking longer. There was so much to search, to travel, despite the fact he knew where he was going. He'd connected to the source so many times in the past few years, he had an idea of the direction he had to go in. Really, it almost called out to him, trying to tie him down to it.
All Mao had to do was follow the beacon and he'd find his way home.
Different currents traveled alongside him; voices, zeros and ones, pure energy. He could feel and hear it all, and it only made him want to hurry faster, get out of the lines. The closer he got, the more the information crowded him, rushing back and forth past him, giving him sure signs that he was almost to his destination.
Keys tapped, the source of the outgoing messages flooding towards him, droning and even as the man stared at the screen much like a doll. This was a normal day for him; sit down and work on coding, messages, making sure everything remained connected with the Syndicate. It was an easy job to him, a nameless man who would remain as such.
The same currents he worked with were disrupted, screen flickering as a surge came through the computer he sat in front of. He barely had any time to react before there was a red flicker, static reaching out and overtaking his hands, sinking in and coursing upwards. He tried to call out, honestly he did, dark eyes wide and head tilted back, mouth opening and hands trying to reach up, pull away.
Widened eyes soon took on a red glow, and afterwards, he slumped into his chair bonelessly. The only hints to life were the occasional twitch, the flicker of red static across skin. Seconds, minutes passed before he let out a groan, eyes no longer glowing, nor brown. Lilac stared ahead at the number-filled screen, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight line. He flexed his fingers, moving to crack his neck, but otherwise remained motionless.
Frown disappearing as he saw his reflection amidst scrolling symbols, Mao tilted his head back against the chair he found himself in, a humorless smile settling in with relief. "Guess this means there's one more chance to work with them."
Darker than Black
Mao. Tuning to the frequency. Semi-AU, semi-spoilers if you haven't finished the series/first season.
Mostly impossible, but it was fun to write anyways. ♥
All Mao had to do was follow the beacon and he'd find his way home.
Different currents traveled alongside him; voices, zeros and ones, pure energy. He could feel and hear it all, and it only made him want to hurry faster, get out of the lines. The closer he got, the more the information crowded him, rushing back and forth past him, giving him sure signs that he was almost to his destination.
Keys tapped, the source of the outgoing messages flooding towards him, droning and even as the man stared at the screen much like a doll. This was a normal day for him; sit down and work on coding, messages, making sure everything remained connected with the Syndicate. It was an easy job to him, a nameless man who would remain as such.
The same currents he worked with were disrupted, screen flickering as a surge came through the computer he sat in front of. He barely had any time to react before there was a red flicker, static reaching out and overtaking his hands, sinking in and coursing upwards. He tried to call out, honestly he did, dark eyes wide and head tilted back, mouth opening and hands trying to reach up, pull away.
Widened eyes soon took on a red glow, and afterwards, he slumped into his chair bonelessly. The only hints to life were the occasional twitch, the flicker of red static across skin. Seconds, minutes passed before he let out a groan, eyes no longer glowing, nor brown. Lilac stared ahead at the number-filled screen, brows furrowed and lips pulled into a tight line. He flexed his fingers, moving to crack his neck, but otherwise remained motionless.
Frown disappearing as he saw his reflection amidst scrolling symbols, Mao tilted his head back against the chair he found himself in, a humorless smile settling in with relief. "Guess this means there's one more chance to work with them."
Darker than Black
Mao. Tuning to the frequency. Semi-AU, semi-spoilers if you haven't finished the series/first season.
Mostly impossible, but it was fun to write anyways. ♥